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... h a drum-like intensity, as if a bunch of damned lunatics were happily knocking on your window to wake you up.
But it was the dead of night, and Lorenzo’s room was on the second floor.
Lorenzo awoke slowly, perhaps because he had returned to a familiar place. After a short rest, the weariness on his body had lessened significantly. He hadn’t drawn the curtains, and the light from the street lamps outside barely illuminated his room. He sat up slowly and, after a moment of absent- ...
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